Adventures of Millennium Mom

Huckabee v Portman and the Kick Off of 2012 Campaign Season

It feels as if we just elected a president. But no, Campaign 2012 has pretty much kicked off this week with the Fox "News" suspensions of Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum--pending their confirming or denying their candidacies--and the following little gem from Mike Huckabee:

Video at: abcn.ws/ehUDQw

Seriously? First, Mike, did you learn nothing from the Dan Quayle v Murphy Brown catastrophe of 1992? Some of you may be too young to remember this classic political goof (the debacle of the attempted criticism, not the VP, who was also a debacle and goof--but that's another story). If so, read the original Time magazine article here. Did Huckabee really think aligning himself with Mr. Quayle was a good thing? Did he think at all? And is that a trait we want in a president?

Second, Huckabee doesn't have the criticism correct. At least Mr. Quayle was correct in the storyline, even if his opinion was more akin to the 1940s than the 1990s. Hollywood was not glamorizing Ms. Portman's pregnancy. It was awarding her an Oscar for a highly acclaimed role that she played in "Black Swan" (which I am renting when it is comes out on Netflix). Ms. Portman was definitely not pregnant in the movie (where she plays a ballerina, for god's sake). "Black Swan" has nothing to do with pregnancies. I'm surprised Huckabee didn't say something about the lesbian love scene--but maybe Mike liked it.

Huckabee has pretty much alienated a huge demographic here: single parents of all types (single mothers, single fathers, widowed mothers and fathers, deserted mothers and fathers, divorced mothers and fathers with deadbeat exes, etc.). For simplicity, because Huckabee has insulted such a large group of people, let's focus on single, never-been-married mothers for the purpose of this blog.

Single motherhood can occur by accident or on purpose. There are hundreds of thousands of successful single women who have reached the midpoint of their childbearing years without finding the man of their dreams but with the desire and knowledge that they want and can support children of their own. Thanks to sperm banks and adoption options, these women make wonderful mothers to hundreds of thousands of children. They have planned their children, cherish them and raise wonderful human beings--just like old-fashioned two-parent families.

Now we come to Huckabee's traditional view of the single mother: poor, uneducated, young who are seen as a drain on government resources. True, these young women have a struggle ahead of them--but Huckabee and his fellow stuck-in-the-1940s Republicans are doing teens and young adults absolutely no favor by cutting the budget of Planned Parenthood. Planned Parenthood provides contraceptives, STD screening and information for millions of women each year--and helps young woman from becoming Huckabee's idea of the single mother. The Republicans may be against abortion, but by coming out anti-Planned Parenthood, they are attacking one of the most effective community organizations available to young people and family planning (get it Huckabee? Planned Parenthood). By cutting Planned Parenthood's government funding, there is likely to be an increase in single parents living on government subsidies as well as an increase in the abortion rate, which has been declining annually for the past 20 years. According to one source, almost each Title X dollar saves $4 in Medicaid costs at a later date.

I'm a huge supporter of family planning. Anyone who is emotionally mature enough and financially able to support a family is a prime candidate for parenthood. By mature, I mean that person or couple is willing and eager to put their needs behind that of their children, to be responsible, loving parents and try their darnedest to raise equally responsible, loving, educated people. Mothers and fathers do not need to be married or heterosexual to succeed as a parent. There are plenty of middle-aged, middle-class, married, heterosexual couples out there who fail miserably as parents, financially and/or emotionally.

Parenthood is the absolute toughest job out there. It is not for teenagers. But we, as a society, have to give these kids the education and resources (contraceptives) they need to avoid becoming a statistic, including funding public school sex ed courses that go beyond "Just Say No" and increasing--not decreasing--the funding for Planned Parenthood and similar organizations.

As we seem to be suddenly plummeting into the muddy depths of Campaign 2012, everyone needs to remember that both sides of the political aisle have pluses and minuses. But even if moderate Republicans have some good fiscal policy ideas, the moderate Democrats will never hear those ideas over the loud voices of the far-right conservative moralists (the ones who usually end up having sex with prostitutes of either sexual persuasion). Republicans need to reign in their moral judgments and clean up their own house (that is, toss out the prostitutes and hypocrites). Democrats, we need you to focus on what we all need to hear: how to create real jobs that can support real, college-educated people who are entering the workforce by the millions each year.

(up next in Campaign 2012: What to Do After Undergrad? Grad School or McDonald's--a Higher Education Dilemma)

Cyber Monday

After stuffing myself this weekend on turkey, stuffing, turkey and more stuffing (and some mashed potatoes), I sat down today and unstuffed our bank account on Cyber Monday. After just a few clicks of just a few buttons, a few bank account numbers and some shipping selections, I am more than 50% done with the holiday shopping. 

I am proud of myself though. This year's shopping has been much more varied than previous years' almost pure Amazon.com purchases. This year's resources include Pottery Barn Teen, the What on Earth Catalog, Signals, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Half-Price Books--and a few secret places that won't be named here in fear of giving up some surprises. 

I think the husband will be pleasantly surprised. My mom is taken care of -- and Thanksgiving with the in-laws eliminated the need for shipping and checked off 8 people from my list before Thanksgiving! I've got some great stocking stuffers lined up for everyone.

Now I just have to work out the hard part: Purchasing for the tweens and teen. These are very discriminating consumers. Despite their low-maintenance mom, they seem to have picked up a high-maintenance gene somewhere in the family line. And they all have a rather delicate sense of fairness, with the ability to sniff out differences in both the number of packages and quality, and declare it a great injustice if all does not seem equal.

Strangely enough, this is the first year that the boys are easier to buy for than the daughter. I have ideas for her--but none seem quite right. The boys have pretty much stated exactly what they want--and will probably get that, plus a couple of minor, fun surprises. But daughter dear is shaping into a real puzzle this year. 

Ideas are always welcome!

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Trying to Keep My Loose Ends from Tripping Us Up

This was not a red-letter day of parenthood for me. Today was about working woman colliding with the woman named "Mom" who stumbled over the simmering PMS creature from the Skokie Lagoons. The woman someone calls "wife" is hiding from the other "me's" in a broom closet somewhere.

Yes, I had meetings. I had work to do. I was focused and dressed nicely (no jeans, grey wool jacket, black slacks and even make-up). I was very focused on the day at hand--and FORGOT TO GIVE HYPER BOY HIS MEDS!

Had I not had to be downtown, Millennium Mom could have zoomed in and fed the Focaline to her Hyper Boy at school. But Millennium Mom was stuck in traffic on 94 around Addison when it popped into her mind that she had, indeed, forgotten to dose her boys with their meds that morning. I also forgot to let the dog out one more time before leaving. 

I felt bad--both for Hyper Boy and his teacher. I felt guilty, knowing he would try to stay calm but eventually cave and be out of control.

Then, I arrived for my meeting. Working Mom at her best: oh, the meeting was at 2:00?? Not 11:00?? And via phone? Not in person?  Thank God, this was with one of my oldest clients. She had time, we laughed, we conferenced--and in the end it was a good thing that I was there in person. We had some photos to look at for her website. But, working mom was really ready to crawl into that broom closet with the one-called-wife. And maybe bring a big bottle of gin for the two of them.

Back at the ranch, the dog got to go out. The e-mail came in: Hyper Boy is having a hard day, says his poor teacher in an e-mail stamped 11:00am. I e-mail back that I had been downtown when I realized what had happened in regard to the missed meds. I extended my apologies to her and Hyper Boy. I felt guilty.

Then Hyper Boy comes home from school. He had had a long, hard day. And his brother had punched him in the car. He dissolves into a puddle of Hyper Boy. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Finally, guilt-ridden mom climbs into the broom closet. The only one left standing is PMS monster from the Skokie Lagoons. She manages to send out an e-mail regarding the school district's callus scheduling of the 5th grade Farewell at the same time as the 8th grade Graduation (monster has kids in both grades). Then she realizes that throughout the Middle School play rehearsals, her e-mail address has been left off most of the cast-parent e-mails. She sends a reply-to-all regarding this situation and finds out that she almost didn't make the show's ad book with a loving ad of support for her daughter. She wonders what other vital e-mails that she's missed. Then pokes her head into daughter's room. Daughter rolls eyes and sneers. PMS monster slams door. 

Knock, knock! Can PMS Monster come in? I brought the rest of you some tonic water.

Reflecting on 17 Years of Decisions Decisions Decisions

Yesterday, at about the same time that we were standing at the altar 17 years ago, I was in a far, far, far out suburb (almost to Wisconsin, really), watching our 13-year-old sing in an honors choir. My betrothed was at home with the boys watching Northwestern lose to Penn State. I wonder what the bride I was 17 years ago would have thought about it all. Possibly, she wouldn't have been too surprised, as where we were yesterday was a direct result of decisions we have made together over the past 17--or really 21 years (counting all the years we've lived together).

Looking back, I'm proud of the decisions we've made. They may not be the right ones for everyone or anyone--but they continually prove to play out well for us.

The big decision that we made that continues to affect our lives is that we both opted for jobs that don't include massive amounts of travel. Sure, we've both traveled for business. But we really like being together at the end of the day and find it terribly lonely when we're separated. Sure, we could be making a lot more money and have a great rambling house. But what is that worth when we would be miserable. 

Just the other day, our youngest was in the car with me. A few blocks north of us, a block of McMansions and old, large homes line a private golf course. My son commented on their size, and I asked if he wished we lived in one. He said no--they'd cost too much and we wouldn't be able to eat. I explained that if we had one of those houses that Dad would have a job that required him to be on the road all week. And Mom wouldn't be able to freelance and would be in an office all day. He said he'd rather have us home than gone--and that he likes our house as it is. I think he really meant it--and it really made everything we do worth it.

Of course that brings us to a couple of other decisions we've made. When we had our first baby, we lived in a 2-bedroom apartment in the city. My husband had been promoted and received a huge raise that gave us the opportunity for me to stay home with the baby, scrimp and save, then search for a house. 

When I feel old and icky, my daughter reminds me that we're some of the youngest parents with kids our kids' ages in the district. That puts things in perspective, and I'm glad we had the kids early on. Sure, once again, we missed out on several years of DINK (duel-income-no-children) and higher savings. But when the youngest leaves for college, we'll only be 49--hopefully with many years of good living ahead of us.

Despite my parents warnings ("You have a beautiful, happy baby. Don't press your luck"), we also decided an only child was not for us. So, then came boy #1 (Mr. Colic), which led to the undecided baby (ooops). Of course, that led to the decision to not be able to procreate anymore. Every time I get baby envy, I am glad we made that particular decision. 

At one point, we seriously considered a move back to Indiana. Despite a serious search, the right job for my spouse just didn't pan out. He got an offer here before one ever materialized there. The decision was urgent (he had been unemployed during the tech bust back in '01)--so we went with what worked for us then and there. And really, I don't think either of us regret it. We love the Chicago area. I worked downtown before kids , and most of my clients are downtown. I still get a thrill when I go into the city for meetings. We're happy our kids are growing up where we are. 

Once they were in school, perhaps I should have gone back to an in-house marketing job. But my freelance career was starting to work out and pay off (well, at least pay for the extras). And now, faced with having a high schooler, a middle schooler and a 5th grader next year, I think I will be working out of our home for the next several years to prevent random after-school parties and boy and girlfriends from getting too "cozy" in those witching hours of 3-6pm.

We've worked hard for what we have. We've done it our way. And, most importantly, we've done it together.  As my father once told me, there are more valleys in life together than there are peaks--but if you go through the valleys together, then you will reach the peaks together. He was a wise man, my father. We've drawn strength from each other in the hard times and celebrated together in the good times.

And we celebrated last night with a wonderful sushi dinner!

Rate This Summer: Good, Average or Bad

These are high pressure times: Only two weekends left of summer!

It's time to evaluate the summer. Have we done all we could? Have we made the most out of our 10 or so weeks of freedom? Has this been a "Summer to Remember" for our children? How does it rate in our own personal summers?

Let's see . . . we started off strong with the Taste of Chicago. Then, the kids visited Grandma Sylvia and Grandpa Jay in June. They went to the Children's Museum, statue parks, made strawberry jam, visited the Dayton Air Museum (ooh, boys got to add Ohio to their list of visited states) and generally had a great time. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad worked and had the house to themselves for a week. Sounds good so far . . .

The boys visited Grandma Ruth. They spent a week in armed services central: visiting the Army surplus store, the Auburn War Museum, and actually shooting guns over the 4th of July. They also went to Ohio (again!) to swim at an aunt and uncle's lake place, where they happened upon a water snake. Score!

Back at the ranch, Mom and DD were having a good time keeping in shape. Long walks along the lake, lunches out, some shopping. Dad had nice quiet evenings with his girls. Still sounds pretty good . . . .

Fourth of July rates high for everyone! Family reunion at Uncle Bob (don't we all have an Uncle Bob?) and Aunt Sharon's farm house. BBQ, babies, little cousins running amok. And of course, Uncle Bob's professional tutorial in beginning target shooting. And a bonfire.

Now we come to the heat and oppressive humidity that has been July and August. Kids escape to the pool with friends. Daughter obtains an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-yellow-polka-dot-bikini, which may have been the cause of the brief summer fling with a (gasp!) high school freshman.

DD and Mom saw Bon Jovi at Soldier Field (whoo!), Dad has seen two Cubs games, and the boys have had sleep-overs and video game fests with friends, eat and eat and eat, and have generally escaped anything educational. DD took a Piven intensive, saw an off-Loop production of "Reefer Madness the Musical" and aced a 4-week pre-algebra class, so something intellectual has occurred.

Sounds like the kids are winners here. But . . .

Where is the zoo? The Renaissance Faire? The Field Museum, the Art Institute, the Planetarium, the Science & Industry? What about the Botanic Gardens, Ravinia?

We have two weekends left, minimal amounts of cash and continued record-breaking heat. Can we do something special? Do we need to? Have we reached that point in parenting where some of their best summer memories don't involve Mom and Dad?

While Dad and I waste precious hours pondering what to do, it's off to the store for tax holiday back-to-school savings.

 

Sleepless in Chicago

For the past couple of weeks, the middle of the night has not been oh-so-quiet in the Millennium household. In addition to our nocturnal cats, I have had some serious bouts of insomnia. From the hours of about 1:00 to 5:00 AM, I toss, turn, turn and toss--and worry. My brain feels that it is running at 90mph and will not shut off.

As my DH sleeps so soundly, I worry. I worry about the fruit flies (still fighting that battle), the fact that the house is such a mess, imminent work deadlines that loom so largely in the dark, whether I wrote the football car pool schedule down right, and--finally the other night--college tuition.

It has occurred to me this summer--almost out of no where and really rather suddenly--that our oldest leaves for college in only 5 years. I think it was her 13th birthday that did it to me--and her gleeful statement that she would be going to college in just 5 years and perhaps married in 10 ("Well, you were 23 when you got married, Mom" was her response to my dropped chin. My reply was that "people just don't do things that way anymore" --and was looked on rather doubtfully by her Highness.

But five years! I think we have the equivalent of one semester's book fees saved. So, I've stewed and stewed about this. How to turn my mind off? Because if we need money, I need to be able to function the next day and finish billable projects!

Counting sheep doesn't do it for me--and warm milk makes me gag. My grandfather used to name the presidents forward and backward to get to sleep--but I get all confused between Andrew Jackson and Abe--and between Abe and Teddy. Frustration doesn't cure insomnia.

I have tried to name all the states and capitals, going across the map. And recently I've been playing an alphabet city game: take the last letter of the first US city that comes to mind and come up with a city that starts with that letter. Name another US city that starts with the previous city's last letter. Not too much to think about: Orlando >> Orland Park >> Kankakee >> Elkhart etc. Seems mind numbing enough to help ease me into sleep sometimes.

But nothing is numbing the pain of the thought that there are only 5 years left until we're broke and the DD leaves the nest. . . .

 

Cicadas & Summer's End

I was a very nervous, shy little girl. I was very bookish and loved learning--but I was scared of school and the teachers (back in the mid-70s teachers were not as user friendly as they are now). I dreaded my father's birthday (8/14) and by the time my brother's birthday came (8/31), I couldn't even choke down his birthday cake. I knew I'd be headed back to school after Labor Day. But the worst were the cicadas, chirping out their warning that summer's end was on its way. 

Once I hit my teens, I loved school and getting back to my friends and looked forward to a new year of excitement and adventure. But to this day, the sound of those darn cicadas still makes me cringe. 

Now, I cringe about my own children going back to school, about having to deal with new teachers--and explaining the boys' 504 plans and making sure these new teachers honor those plans. My stomach twinges now because I'm a mother and am responsible for three growing children and making sure they receive a good education and do their best. 

While my daughter does a pretty good job managing her time, studying and striving to do well, the boys with their differing types of ADHD are still a constant, emotionally exhausting struggle.

And finally, those cicadas warn me that the summer season itself is almost over. Where did this summer go? And I worry that I personally didn't take advantage of all the fleeting season has had to offer. 

On the bright side, though, when the kids return to school, I get my regular schedule back. I'll have time to work for multiple uninterrupted, productive hours. I get the family room back to do Wii fit, the weather will cool down, and I'll be able to get out and walk again. 

So, even as the cicadas sing and my stomach twinges, there is a light at the end of August.

Carpooling Boys vs Carpooling Girls

This summer, I've had the debatable pleasure of driving 8th grade theatre/dancer girls to various classes/activities. While these activities ended this week, the boys' tackle football has just started up, leading to a 4th-5th grade boy carpool. The differences are amazing.

Female Carpool:
• I'm not really suppose to talk more than, "Hi! How are you today?" "Bye--have fun!"
• Awkward silences because the girls are feuding that particular day.
• Silences because girls are texting (probably each other).
• The car is generally still at intersections. The people in it don't really move around. This is a very good thing.
• Channel surfing is king. My music is intolerable. Only select songs of their music are tolerable as any song on any given day can be rejected for being "too old" (2 months old), overplayed, or a remembrance of a recent boyfriend.
• Complaints—about other girls or boys, auditions, the current activity they are going to, etc.
• Demands—for more driving (to mall, to pool, to someone's house). Usually prefaced with "Mom, I need to be at [blank] at noon." or "Mom, you need to take me/us to [blank]."
• Generally dealing with very clean people who smell good (lots of fruity smelling body sprays).

Male Carpool:
• I'm allowed to talk (although I try not to speak, too much, and I have to try not to laugh at them out loud). In fact, they even ask me questions! "Did you like this song (a DuranDuran song) when you were a kid?"
• Never a dull or silent moment! They sing with the radio, they discuss silly or deep topics. Sometimes they make silliness of deep topics (talking bacon that must eventually be eaten after they have made millions showing it off to the public. Is there a heaven for talking bacon?).
• No back-stabbing so far with these guys. Talk about other guys is usually centered on what cool gadget, bike, phone or mp3 player another guy has acquired.
• There is a lot of energy here. These boys exude energy just trying to sit. My minivan bounces around at intersections. So far, no one has gone airborne!
• Channel requests come up, but so far the boys pretty much like my music. Earlier in the week, I had four guys singing loudly to Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer"!
• I haven't had to do pick up from football yet. By judging what my boys smell like when they get home, though, we are not talking fruity bodyspray here. We are talking sweaty, funky-smelling preadolescents.
• And dirt. I've been advised to by tarps and seat covers for those days when it rains.

We'll see as the football season continues how these guys grow and change emotionally. Hopefully, as they age, they will remain the happy, friendly, polite people they are. And the girls . . . someday they will relax again, allow the moms to talk, and settle in on one radio channel. But by then, they'll have their own licenses.

Tomorrow I Become the Mother of a Teenager!

 
 

As of tomorrow, I will be the mother of a teenager. Where did the time go? How did that tiny little baby girl turn into a young woman only an inch shorter than I? Did we really grow that? I remember studying her tiny little pinky toes and the even tinier little pinky toenails when she was a newborn babe and being awed that we created her (and very concerned about the very BIG THING that we'd undertaken). And as the weeks went by, I was shocked that she nursed and grew, nursed and grew. We really "grew" that baby ourselves. With love and mother's milk, that tiny infant was not just growing but flourishing. Yes, we were successful dog and cat owners--but I was/am notorious at killing houseplants. Yet, here, we were growing a baby girl. 

With love and food, more love and food, some toilet training and education, we have grown a teenager. God have mercy on our souls. And God bless and keep her as she takes on the increasing responsibility of growing herself emotionally, intellectually and individually. 

She is our oldest, our "guinea pig" child. Often she has proclaimed, "but you didn't let me do that at his age" regarding one of her brothers. I will look at her and sigh, "I know, dear, but you are our great experiment. You came first. We can only learn as we go." Thankfully, she is usually cool with this. 

To be totally truthful, when I was pregnant with her, before the ultrasound that told us she was most definitely a girl, I really believed she was a girl. I wanted a baby girl so bad that I believed her into one. I also wanted a healthy baby--but being new to the game and the miracle of a healthy delivery and baby, I really wanted a girl. Someone who I could understand as my first. As my mother often says, "Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it." Yes, I got a healthy baby girl, who I generally understand. But where I was shy at her age, she is confident and outgoing. Where I cringed before public speaking and speech team, she is an experienced stage actress and dancer. I was awed and scared of my parents. She meets us head on. I was an academic. She cares but puts it in perspective. I can't sing to save my soul. She has a soprano that would impress Verdi and Puccini. No boy could care less about me at her age. She has them trailing her from here to kingdom come. I was a tiny 5' at her age, weighing about 85 to 90 lbs tops but always had a "tummy". I was always a one-piece gal. She waltzes off to the pool in a bikini that shakes me to the core. Urgh. I got what I asked for--yet she delights me in every smile, every hug (which come less and less), and in just being her. 

Now, see that below? That's me at the beginning--and then at the beginning of this month. Note the creases and crevices forming on my face. That's what 13 years of parenting have done to me. Each crease is a concern. Each crevice is a worry. I have 10 more until everyone (children 1 thru 3) are out of their teens. What will those years do to me?? 

 

Psychotic Summer Schedules

This is the first year in many, many years that all three of my children are not enrolled in any day camps. With them turning 10, 11 and 13 this summer, I idealized dropping them off at the pool each day, lazy summer evenings outside with their friends, and a few activity-related classes--and plenty of time for me to deal with my freelance work. 

?????Was I flippin' INSANE???? 

Instead, here is a sample of my day yesterday: 

 8:00am - Flush 13 (as of next week) yo DD out of bed. 
 8:30am - Push DD out of door for her to (gasp!) walk to her summer pre-Algebra math class 
8:30-10:45am - I have a chance to work! 
10:45am - Pick up DD from the middle school. Bring home. I work. 
11:15am - Drop DD and DS#2 off at the middle school ("I don't want to walk againnnn", states DD) for her voice & his guitar lessons 
Noon - Go to fix bag lunch for DD to eat on way to theatre intensive. Realize the DSs have eaten all the bread while I've been doing the above. Crap. 
12:30pm - Pick up DD and DS from above class. DD is peeved about the sandwich. Before she can continue I hiss, "Burger King chicken nuggets." 
12:35pm - Drop DS#2 back off at house. 
12:40pm - Pick up Chicken Nuggets and continue to pick up DD's friend who is also in theatre intensive. 
12:44pm - DD's friend's mom comes out with friend (crap, again--I forgot that we were dropping girls and having lunch). I smile and pretend like I knew all along that we were having lunch. 
1:00pm - Drop girls and have lunch with friend at Panera (watch money and calories--go for Thai Chicken salad. Save on calories, watch money disappear). 
2:00pm - Drop my friend off, rush home to see if boys are starving. No, they've eaten all the rest of the fruit. OK. Work until 3:45. 
3:45pm - Rush out door to go pick up girls from Piven Theatre. 
4:15pm - Collapse. Pour wine. Finish e-mails for the day. 

7:30pm - Throw some pasta together. Finish bottle of wine. 

Time for exercise? Nope. Time for walk outside? Maybe, but 500 degrees with humidity. 

This repeats until early August, every Tuesday. Wednesdays and Thursdays aren't much better. Thank goodness that Mondays & Fridays basically rock (one activity per day!) 

In the meantime, I try to work, work as quickly as I can. I squeak under work deadlines, meeting the absolute drop dead deadlines by mere seconds. I haven't had time to bill clients. The dishes pile up (why is it that everyone disappears when there are dishes and laundry to be done). My husband is complaining that he can't find black socks. The boys can't find white socks and are roaming around like lunatics in shorts and black socks (hmmm). 

Summertime -- gotta love it.